What We Can Be
by vampireisthenewblack
Summary: For the Twilight Kink Fest. Prompt: Twincest. Volturi AU, Alec/Jane, het, vampfic, NC-17.


**What We Can Be  
><strong>by  
><strong>vampireisthenewblack<strong>

for twikinkfest . tumblr . com

**Prompt: **Twincest. Jane/Alec. These two have never found mates. Why is that? Jane is the instigator and Alec is reluctant, feels guilty but eventually gives in. I'd like to see a vulnerable Jane at some point in this, admitting she fears if Alec doesn't give her physical affection, no one ever will. Angst, angst, angst.

**Rating:** NC-17

**Warnings:** The prompt says it all. Incest. Twincest even. And for readers of my usual shtick, **HET SEX**. Oh, it's also pretty much PWP.

**A/N: **A million bushels of thanks to venis-envy because I was so completely flaily over this tiny wee story and she had to deal with it all. She was an enormous help and I really don't know what I'd do without her. Thanks also to TheRainGirl for a much needed confidence boost, and thanks beyond words to dellaterra, who beta'd this fuckery.

* * *

><p>One delicate finger lingers on the rim of a vase older than we are. I'm not quick enough to save it before it falls to the floor.<p>

The fine dust of broken pottery hangs in the air. I watch from the couch as Jane sweeps through the centre of the room, a rustling object of silk and velvet, and sends the particles swirling away.

"I cannot bear it," she cries, as she tears a tapestry from the wall. "She was my only hope that our youth was not the cause of it, but we are alone, Alec! Left behind as all others find companionship."

Once, Jane admired Chelsea. Once, she called her friend. Now she will hate her as she hates the wives, as she hates all the women here who have men to share their lives and their bodies.

I scoff at her. "Chelsea is much older than ourselves, Jane. She waited two and a half millennia to find a mate. We have plenty of time."

Jane narrows her eyes at me. "You are deceiving yourself. What woman would have _you?_"

I sniff, but she is right. We are ancient, but eternally adolescent. I am shorter than any vampire woman I have ever met, even those far more ancient than myself. Any that look younger than ourselves are destroyed. Neither Jane nor I have felt an attraction to another vampire that is anything remotely like a mating bond.

Instead, we share a connection with each other, by necessity, for where else would we find affection? After all, we shared a womb in the very beginning of our existence, one that grew these gifts within us that make us so very valuable to the Volturi.

We are precious jewels. We have lived a thousand years, and still we are treated as children that must be coddled and protected.

Jane sinks onto the couch beside me and places her hand on my chest, fingers splayed wide. It is a comfort.

"I'm sorry." Her voice is rough, her breath quick. "I cannot help but think of it. It is the same for me. I am too small, too slight, for any man to look upon me with desire. What I would not give to be soft as she is. No man will ever want to touch me."

I pull her into my side and hold her tightly, hoping to offer what comfort I can. I stroke her face, her cheeks and hair.

"You understand, Alec. We are alike, my brother. I understand you as well."

She is quick. In a moment her lips are on mine and then gone. She pulls back and with wide eyes studies my face, tipping her head to the side, examining my shock.

She does it again.

This is not the kiss of a sister for her brother. There is sensuality in the brush of her lips against mine, in the touch of her tongue to my upper lip as she pulls away and again tips her head to the side. She is curious, experimenting, desperate in a way that makes her brave and reckless, but I cannot allow it.

"Jane." I push her away, shaking my head, unable to find the words I need.

She reclines back on the couch beside me. "Alec?"

"I am your brother. You shouldn't do that."

She frowns, and her lips pout, quivering. "I'll do anything I like. Aro says I may. He won't judge us, and no one else needs to know." She reaches out and again places her hand upon my chest. "Were you not aroused when I spoke of Chelsea? I know you were." Her hand slides down, over my stomach, lower.

I stand and back away from her, my mouth hanging open in shock.

"She'll never look at you like she looks at her man. I hear that he is endowed in ways that you could not hope for. She'll never want you, and one like him will never want me." Her face falls, and her eyes glisten though she will never shed a tear. "None will want to touch me in love or lust, Alec. You and I have only each other, remember that."

My heart softens toward her and I wish to offer comfort. Not of the kind she wants, but I cannot leave her in such pain.

"Please," she begs, and she reaches out her arms to me, so I sink back down into the cushions and hold her close.

"Imagine her, if you will," Jane whispers. "Imagine it is her you touch. Her soft curves your fingers glide over, her warmth you enter. Dear brother, offer me the kind of comfort I can get nowhere else." Her hands flutter at my chest, sink down to the level of my waist, and her little fingers tug at the fastenings of my breeches.

"No, Jane." I shrink away. What she asks of me is against all natural and unnatural laws. Despite my horror—she is my own sister, my flesh—my own inferior member stiffens.

"Think of her," she answers. "Think of Chelsea. Of her softness and her full hips. Close your eyes and imagine her fingers wrapping around you, her lips on yours." She kisses me, and my eyes fall closed. I can almost pretend that the fingers wrapping around my length—for the first time not my own—belong to that woman, that full-grown vampire, and I moan.

"Touch me," Jane whispers against my lips, and her tongue darts into my mouth. I obey, nervous fingers reaching out, touching her face, her throat, her shoulders, gliding down over the gentle swellings that rise above the stiff silk of her dress. She arches into my touch, moans into my mouth, pushing at me, tugging at me, pulling, and cursing the youth I had when I was changed I spill my seed out over her fingers.

The room comes rushing back, and with it, the gravity of what I have done. I look up, shocked, into the wide eyes of my sister. "Do you see what we can be to each other?" she asks.

Horrified, I pull back from her, trying to cover myself. I'm ashamed of my weakness. I've used her for my own pleasure and I'm disgusted.

I stand, stammering an apology, but she follows, twisting her fingers in the fine cloth of her skirts as she wipes my semen from her hands. She has a gentle smile on her face, a wondrous smile. "But don't you see?" she asks, stepping closer as I back away. "It can't be wrong. You and I are two halves of a whole. All we have is each other. We are the only ones who can satisfy one another." She presses me against the wall, her hands on my shoulders, her lips grazing my cheek as I turn my head away, straining to keep my lips from hers. "Give in," she whispers, and her hands slide down my body.

I twitch as she touches me again. "Don't, Jane. Please."

I feel her lips curl into a smile against my face. "But you're hard again, Alec. You want this."

My body betrays me. As her fingers wrap more tightly around my length I moan. She's right. I want to give in. I want to surrender.

"I want to know what it feels like," she whispers, then she takes my earlobe between her lips. Her tongue moves from side to side, flicking, teasing.

"What?" I ask, knowing I shouldn't, because anything that comes from her mouth must be wrong, forbidden, but I have to know.

"I have to know what it is like to take a man into my mouth," she whispers.

I moan and thrust into her hand involuntarily. "I... Dear God... Jane..." I try to protest, but all I can do is stare down at her as she sinks to her knees, her hands on my hips, holding me firmly to the wall. I feel her breath on my cock, cooling the wetness at the tip before her tongue darts out to lick, and I can't watch anymore.

My head hits the wall behind me and I close my eyes. My fingers dig deep into the ancient mortar as her mouth surrounds me and her lips slide down my length. Her tongue flicks and teases, stroking me until I cannot think beyond the pleasure.

I lose myself, lose any concept of right or wrong. We kill for blood. We take what we need to survive, and we do as we are bid by Aro, who saved us from the fires. We torture and we conquer, but never has all that has gone before seemed so benign as now.

I don't care. The pleasure is too great. As her tongue and lips drive me mad, I know I cannot stop this. I will not stop this. I will take what she offers, and if I am not already damned, I will burn in hell for this, and still I will not stop.

She hums around me and I cry out at the sensation, but then it is gone. I look down as warm air hits my exposed cock.

Jane sits back on her heels and smiles.

It takes all my strength not to reach out and force her to take me back inside those lips. As she rises to her feet, that smile still upon her lips, she holds out her hand to me, and I take it.

I am weak, pliable with the promise of what is yet to come. I let her lead me back to the couch, let her push me down into the soft cushions. She pulls my breeches down to my thighs, and my cock juts forth, still slick and wet from her saliva.

The smile slides from her face as she looks down at me. "I want to know," she repeats. "I want to know how it feels to take a man inside me."

Then she lifts her skirts, places her knees either side of my thighs, and lowers herself.

I feel slick wetness of a kind I have only wished for before. I feel soft folds that promise ecstasy within. The time has come for me to cast aside my doubts and fears. I slide my hands up underneath her many skirts, and I hold them high, then watch as my cock sinks inside her.

She slides down onto me slowly. It is torture, for I want to thrust up into her, I want to grasp her narrow hips and pull her down onto me.

Instead, I wait. I savour the tight hold she has on me. When her backside settles on my thighs and I am as deep inside her as she can take me, she stills.

Her eyes bore deep into mine and my name forms on her lips. "Alec," she whispers. "My brother. My love."

She begins to move.

I am overwhelmed. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders, and her slick walls squeeze as she slides up and down my cock. It doesn't matter that I'm smaller than a full-grown man, because she is smaller than a full-grown woman. As we were made for immortality, as we were made to be eternally young, so were we made to fit together. We are two halves of a whole. We are all each of us will ever need. As she drives me toward my climax, I see the truth of it.

"Jane," I moan, so close. "Sister. Love."

She smiles and slips a hand between us to touch her own flesh where we are joined. She rubs and writhes upon me, crying out, her face twisting in pleasure, and then she breaks, slumping down onto me, spent, panting as if she needs the air, and she is still but for the rhythmic pulsing of her walls around me.

I grasp her hips and thrust up into her. I make her cry out with high-pitched calls of _yes_ and _please_ and _more_.

My orgasm washes over me like a great wave. Endless, unstoppable, surging until finally, it slowly fades.

We are all that is left, clinging to each other, wet with fluids, shaking. A brother, and a sister.

She rises up and looks down at me. "Now do you see?"

The shame is still there, the knowledge that what we have done is forbidden, but I nod. "Yes," I tell her. "Now I see." I know that despite the wrongness of it, we will do this again, because that shame is not strong enough to overshadow the aching loneliness we both have felt.


End file.
